A Moment to Capture
by karnival
Summary: Jeanine is an aspired photojournalist and works for the school newspaper. Her biggest dream is to photograph and write a story on the immortal Mysterion. New problems surface when Kenny finds himself agreeing to help her. Kenny/Mysterion/OC.
1. Mysterion Rises

**Summary: **Jeanine is an aspired photojournalist and works for the school newspaper. Her biggest dream is to photograph and write a story on Mysterion. New problems surface when Kenny finds himself agreeing to help her. Rated T for some violence and occasional potty-mouthed teens.

**A/N:** Sooo all the Avengers hype from a while ago inspired me to write a superhero fic. And because I like South Park so much, I felt like writing about Kenny/Mysterion. This is also my first OC story. (And my first fic in two years actually.) I never write OC stories 'cause the most I do is think about them. I had too many ideas for this one, though, and I couldn't sit by and let myself NOT write it. So yup. I actually have this pretty well planned out from beginning to end.

I'm hoping to finish this fic by the time my summer vacation ends, because once it does, I'll be back in school and I won't have time to write as much! I'll probably disappear again. Sad lyfe.

Let's see how this goes for the time I have now. I hope y'all enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Mysterion Rises**

A blue slurpee sounded good at the moment so I make my way toward the back of the convenience store where the machine quietly hums. I grab an empty cup, fill it with blue slurpee, and walk to the front of the store and wait in line for the cashier. The place is quiet, with only the store's music playing in the background and the occasional sound of the cash register.

The sound of a small bell sounds as two men walk in through the door to my right. They are both dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants with their hands in their pockets. Without even browsing through the shelves, they stand behind me in line, neither of them saying a word. I shift my body to face the store's entrance, so that I can observe them through my peripheral vision. No one else in the store suspects them, but I do. Unless they are buying a pack of cigarettes from the front counter, I know they mean trouble. I can sense it because I've seen this happen before. Too many fucking times.

In front of me in line are a man and a girl. The man has just finished making his purchase so he gets ready to leave. The girl is next. She is going to be the two men's hostage.

Acting quickly but casually, I leave my place in line, slurpee still in my hand as I find the door to a storage room in the back. I pull my backpack off my shoulders, unzip it, and pull out my suit. To myself, I say a silent thank you to a god I know exists. I thank the dude for always allowing me to be prepared in a time like this.

In less than a minute, I am changed out of my orange hoodie and into my suit. I feel a little weird, not having worn the suit in a while. The thick spandex hugs my body.

I charge out the door, back to the cashier's counter. Just as I had suspected, one of the hooded men has the girl in a chokehold, a gun held threateningly to her head. She is helpless and can't move while in his grip. The other man faces the cashier, pointing a knife at him.

"Any day now, old man!" yells the thug with the knife. The old man behind the counter fumbles as he nervously clears the cash register of all its bills.

"Drop your weapons," I command in a low, disguised voice. The two thugs turn to face me. The look in their eyes tells me they are bemused. "What, never seen a guy in a onesie before?"

I charge forward, pushing the knife holding thug against the counter. My hand grips his neck into a choke and he is so tense that he drops his knife onto the counter. The thug's accomplice yells, "I'll shoot! Hands off him or else I'll shoot."

I turn toward the other guy as I keep hold of the first. The hostage girl's eyes are wide with fear. No, amusement. But at what? This situation doesn't really call for amusement. I smirk. Thug number two won't shoot. He's too scared. In fact, these two men are rookies at convenience store robbery. I can tell because the guy's voice quavers as the threat comes out of his mouth a second time.

"I'll shoot the girl!"

Without letting go of the first guy, I grab the knife off the counter and hold it at his neck, letting the tip of the blade touch his skin but not quite in position to pierce him.

"Drop the gun and let the girl go or your friend gets it first," I warn the guy with the gun. I can see sweat beading on the thug's forehead. Slowly, he then points the gun at me with his finger on the trigger. He looks uncertain. "Go ahead. Shoot."

"No!" yells the girl. It is then I realize.. I know this girl. She is a familiar face from school. One of the smarter kids, so we never really hang out. But the faster I get this over with, the faster I can get away from her before she realizes who I really am.

The thug and I stare each other down. Think think think. It's two against one. I've done this before, I can do it again. The fact that a gun is pointed at me shouldn't bother me, but it somehow does. I can't afford to die yet.

In one swift motion, I take the knife and throw it at the thug's leg to demobilize him. He lets out an earsplitting roar in pain. At the same time, just seconds before he drops his gun, his fingers pull the trigger. Luckily I move my head and the bullet whizzes pass me by an inch. It hits and shatters some glass encasements by the old man behind the counter.

The thug is gutsier than I thought. Then again, shooting a masked vigilante is different from shooting an innocent girl.

I dive for the gun and throw it at the old man so he can protect himself. While one thug wails in pain, the other guy—who is now free from my grip—throws himself at me.

"Get outta here!" I yell at the girl as she stumbles away from the injured thug.

The other guy catches me off balance and we both fall to the ground. I try to kick the guy's weight off of me but he has me pinned and lands a couple of punches to my face. I block his next punch with my forearm. It stings, but I don't think about it. With my other arm free, I swing my fist into the side of the guy's face. He stumbles sideways, allowing me room to get up and trap him between my legs.

As I straddle the thug, I throw more jabs and hooks to his face. When my fist sinks into his jaw for the last couple times, he is about to spit at me but his head drops backward to the floor, blood trickling down where my punches created gashes. I take this moment to get up and leave. Enough sense has been beaten out of him and his accomplice already so my job here is done. The old man is on the phone—probably with the police—so it is my time to go.

Without any further ado, I dart out of the convenience store and into the streets to head home. My face and arms feel a little sore but the pain could be worse. And I realize I never got my blue slurpee but whatever.

Just as I am about to turn around a block, I hear a pair of running footsteps behind me. The thugs? No, one's got a knife in his leg and the other's unconscious. I risk a quick glance behind me. The girl from the convenience store? She is running toward me in her red Converse high tops. Her short brown hair bobs up and down and her hands possess a camera. What the..

"Wait! Mysterion, wait!" she calls out. I break into a sprint. I thought she had already left the store when I told her to.

I make a sharp turn into an alleyway and leap onto a ladder at the side of a building. I still hear her behind me. What is this girl doing, chasing after me with a camera? If all she wants is a picture, she's crazy. I climb up as fast as I can but by the time I'm halfway to the top, I hear her jump onto the ladder below me. She's fast and persistent but I don't let her catch me.

"Wait up!" she yells.

I reach the top of the building and scan my surroundings. Well, there's not much to expect at building tops. There is only one way out in a time of desperation.

My feet make their way to the building's ledge. I look down and come to the conclusion that I'm about eight stories up. The fall shouldn't be too bad. I've had worse. Without any further thinking, I take a few steps back, run forward until right before I meet the edge, and take a giant leap into the open space before me. My cloak makes fluttering noises and the cold evening air wraps around me as gravity pulls me down selfishly and fast.

By the time the girl reaches the top, I'd be gone.


	2. Extracurricular Activities

**A/N: **So.. funny story, guys. I've actually finished writing this whole fic. I just had few days of nonstop writing because I felt like it and all I need to do now is add finishing touches and review everything to make sure it flows alright. So it'll end at 14 chapters and I'll be publishing one chapter a week! Thanks for reviewing. Please keep doing so, it makes me happy!

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**Chapter 2: Extracurricular Activities**

I wake up feeling perfectly fine the next morning. No bruises, no muscle pains, no nothing. It's as if the events of last night never even happened. But the convenience store robbery makes it to the morning news to remind me that it did happen. On TV, I see myself along with the old man, the two thugs, and the girl, whose name I find out is Jeanine Axelrod. I watch the security camera's footage from last night as I bite into a stale waffle for breakfast. They've replayed the part where I threw a knife at the thug's leg about three times. Not to be conceited or anything, but I look pretty bad-ass.

The news takes a shift and random civilians on the street are briefly interviewed. It is the talk of the town that Mysterion is back.

But I'm not back. I told myself I wouldn't go looking for trouble anymore. If I happened to come across it, it's only then that I would take care of it. Stopping those two robbers was only a coincidence. Though apparently the townspeople seemed to view it as a heroic act, one that could signify the return of Mysterion, South Park's "superhero." It's been years since I was considered an actual "superhero."

The sound of a car honking outside interrupts my breakfast. I hastily gather my backpack and whatever waffle I have left and leave the house. Kyle is parked in the driveway and I hop into the passenger seat of his car.

As he backs out into the street, he asks me, "So Mysterion's back, huh?"

Kyle is the only one that knows about Mysterion's true identity and about my.. gift. Whether or not he believed the fact that I can't die, he seemed to be the only one trustworthy enough to tell. I couldn't keep such big secrets to myself for long.

I sigh. "Nah, not really."

He glances at me with a raised eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean? This was just a one-time thing?"

"South Park's just too damn boring of a city that they'll fish for any story to make the local news seem interesting. I'm not back. It's just… it's habit, I guess." I shrug. What kind of town gets worked up about a crime-fighting teenager in a home-crafted spandex suit? The town I live in, apparently.

"Is that why you still carry your suit around?"

"I guess so."

I lean an elbow against the window and rest my cheek in the palm of my hand as I gaze at the passing landscape, uninterestedly. I say it's habit, but to be honest, I haven't really come up with a conclusion as to why I still carry the suit with me wherever I go. Maybe there is a part of me that's just too stubborn to admit that I do occasionally care about the city's well-being. A part of me that will never leave.

...

We reach the school's parking lot and meet up with Cartman, Stan, and Wendy. Things are different when we're with Wendy. When Wendy's with us, it's mostly her talking and because she's Stan's girlfriend, we feel out of place to shut her up. The two have been inconsistently together for years, and now she's got Stan whipped. We've learned to roll with it.

She groans as she gets out of Stan's front passenger seat. "This whole Mysterion comeback is great and all, but Jeanine's gonna be on my ass now."

My ears perk up at the sound of Jeanine's name. My curiosity takes over and the question never leaves me so I ask her, "Jeanine on your ass? Elaborate."

Wendy looks at me questionably. "Don't you know? She's like OBSESSED with Mysterion. For years she's been trying to get me to let her write an article about him but seeing as he hasn't been around for so long, I didn't find it relevant."

Wendy is the editor in chief for our school newspaper, _The South Park Bull_. And judging by her complaints, Jeanine has a spot in the newspaper as well. Now, she might even have a permanent spot on my list of people to be careful around.

"Well it's pretty relevant now," I say to Wendy.

"I KNOW," she groans again. "I do admit, though, it'll make a great story. Now that Mysteron's back, I'm going to let Jeanine write about the robbery. She was there first-hand, anyway. I just don't want her giving me any of her I-told-you-so attitude. …Anyway, since when were you so interested in my involvement with the newspaper, Kenny?"

"Since now," I say. Kyle and I exchange a quick glance at each other. But what can I say? Jeanine's obsessed with me—or my other me, anyway—and I'm curious to know why.

Everyone else my age seems jaded by Mysterion's antics. My peak of fame seemed to be when we were all kids, when I saved South Park from the demon god, Cthulhu. So since then, no one at school really cares for Mysterion anymore. Only the people downtown seem excited whenever he makes a comeback.

"Well if you ask me, Mysterion coming back is pretty gay," Cartman butts in. We all ignore him and walk toward the school building.

**…**

By lunchtime, I am already drained from school. It's such a bore compared to the thrill I get from being Mysterion. Not that I'd rather be out there prowling the streets and saving the city, but you know what I mean.

The guys and I sit at our usual table while Wendy sits with her girl friends a couple of tables away.

"So are you guys gonna come watch me at the game tomorrow?" Stan asks us. He is quarterback for our school's football team but since he was in junior varsity our freshman year, we never really come out to the games to support him anymore. I don't know why he still asks.

"Nah," Cartman and Kyle say in unison. Skipping out on football games is one of the only things they usually agree on. I remain silent. What great friends we are.

Stan gives out a sigh. "Fine. It's cool."

"You know what's totally _not_ cool?" a voice suddenly calls out from beside me.

"Oh hey, Wendy," I say dryly.

"Hey," she says as she makes herself comfortable at our table. "Sorry if I'm bothering you guys but—don't roll your eyes at me, Cartman—it's just.. so Stan, I asked Jeanine about writing the article, right? The Mysterion article. And she said she'd do it.. but not until she gets a good picture of him to go with it! I mean, really? The more she waits to write this story, the more value it's going to lose. This story should be out in our next issue and not WEEKS after the robbery's already happened. Who knows how long it'll take to find Mysterion! Ugh, I finally think it's a story worth writing, she finally gets what she wants, and now she wants something else!"

"Tell her to write it without the picture," Stan suggests. Wendy just looks at him like it's a useless piece of advice. I think of Jeanine running down the sidewalk with her camera, chasing after me. Wendy and I both know that Jeanine will probably fight to get what she wants.

I chuckle. "Let her do what she wants," I say. "A girl as smart as her should know what's right to do."

Wendy pouts at me. "I am letting her do what she wants! I'm giving her until the next TWO issues to write it. After that, I won't let her write it at all. Why are you defending her?"

_Because she's obsessed with me and maybe I owe it to her?_ "I think the newspaper could really use a good story. Maybe it's worth waiting."

"Fine," Wendy concedes. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down and says, "Maybe you're right. Maybe YOU should try to help her get a good photo of Mysterion."

"What, me? Why?" I question, probably looking a bit more alarmed than I had wished.

"It was a joke, Kenny," she says. "Unless you really want to. You kind of seem like you do."

"Jeanine's in a lot of my classes and I think she's president of the photography club. I'm sure she could get a good picture of him. Maybe you should help her, Ken," Kyle comments, eyeing me for a quick second before he realizes his mistake. That fucker.

"Yeah, I don't want her getting carried away. She needs to stick to her duties! She _is _president of photography club and she's our only photographer for newspaper too, and now we have a game coming up! So it's a great idea! Are you really going to help her?" Wendy asks.

I make sure my eyes don't show any signs of panic. "Um.. what makes you guys think it's my job to? I barely know her. And, besides, who actually reads the school newspaper anyway?"

Wendy does not look amused. Offended, maybe, but not amused.

"Well, Kenny, people who want a brighter future are either in newspaper or getting involved in other ways. And no offense but we're already seniors and so far you haven't done _anything_ extracurricular.. Maybe it's time you join some clubs or something."

"…Are you telling me to join the photography club?" I ask, humorlessly.

"I know you roam the city a lot too, so maybe you guys can catch Mysterion together. I'm just trying to think of a better solution. You don't have to join Jeanine's club, just help her," Wendy says and shrugs. Then she adds, "I know Jeanine's a little weird and offbeat—she doesn't seem to have any friends besides her club—but then again you've never been this hesitant to get to know a girl, Kenny. If you know what I mean."

No friends? How does she not have any friends when even _Cartman_ does? …Well, kind of.

And who does Wendy think she is?

"Fine, I'll help her," I say. The words escape my mouth without me even knowing it, and it bewilders even Kyle, who sits across from me. I don't know why I agreed. I'm totally giving Wendy what she wants and there is no possible way I can help Jeanine with finding Mysterion. Did I do it because Wendy was starting to piss me off a little? Was it for a new thrill? Did helping Jeanine mean helping Wendy which ultimately means helping Stan? Maybe I underestimated how bad I felt that we're never there for Stan at his games... I have no idea and maybe I'm just trying to make the least bit of sense out of it. "Where can I find her?"

"She's taking pictures at tomorrow's game."

I sigh. "Well, Stan, I guess I'll see you there."**  
**


	3. A Sparkle In Her Eye

**A/N: **So all of my chapters have turned out shorter than I anticipated! Ah, well... short but sweet, I hope. Here we finally meet the heroine of the story, Jeanine. Enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated!

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**Chapter 3: A Sparkle In Her Eye**

Kyle was nice enough to go to the game with me the next day. He picked me up and now we were sitting on the crowded bleachers, among a swarm of other South Park High students and their families. Blinding white lights illuminate the whole place as little figures of football playing jocks run back and forth across the field. At the margin of the field, cheerleaders hoist each other up into the air, doing flips and dancing quite strikingly in their mid-baring uniforms. A little distance to the side of the cheerleaders, I spot Jeanine in her red Converse high tops, her eyes looking into her camera as she takes pictures of the football guys in action.

"I still don't understand why you got me into this, man," I tell Kyle without looking at him. Jeanine finishes taking pictures, caps her lens, and walks off elsewhere.

"I'm sorry, dude! It slipped. Besides, it was Wendy who really pushed the idea, not me."

"You owe me. You know what I'm gonna make you do, right?" Kyle looks at me and I look at him.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm gonna make you wear the suit, we'll take the picture, and we'll be done with it," I tell him as if it's simply fact.

"Hell no!" he yells, just as the crowd hollers in unison at the game. I think Stan just scored a touchdown but neither Kyle nor I were paying attention.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I'll attract attention in that suit. It's dangerous. Plus, you're taller than me so it won't fit."

"Excuses, excuses. What if I have you do it in a safe, secluded place in the city and I'll make Jeanine take it from a distance? She won't be able to tell."

Kyle sighs. "Or what if you just tell Wendy you can't do it. I'm sure she'll find someone else to help her in no time."

"So I make up another excuse?" I ask. But the idea actually appeals to me all of a sudden. Why do all the people I hang out with have to be so difficult? If I ditch the idea altogether, I wouldn't have to deal with coming up with some kind of plan where I could somehow be in two places at once, and we can just forget everything. Even if I had the smarts to come up with a brilliant plan, Kyle—the only person who could possibly help me—wouldn't have the will to. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'll just tell Wendy I can't do it anymore."

Kyle and I look at each other, shrug in agreement, and continue to watch the game. Easy as pie to change our minds sometimes.

As I watch Stan, number 12, run and tackle someone of the opposite team, I try to think of an excuse for Wendy. I can't say I can't do it because I'm busy.. she pointed out herself that I have no extracurricular activities. Way to call me out, Wendy, just because Stan has his sports, Kyle has his academics, and Cartman… well Cartman isn't really the best qualified to help someone out. Let alone, a girl.

I can't say I'm sick.. I'd have to pretend to be sick for two weeks until Wendy breaks it to Jeanine that she can't write the story anymore. Ugh, what can I do?

"I'm gonna grab a snack," I say. Hunger. At least it's a problem I know I can solve.

I make my way down the bleachers and to the concession stands at the side of the field. The cheapest thing I can get are nachos. Good enough. After giving the lady at the concessions my money, she hands me my nachos and I turn around to make my way back to the bleachers. But upon turning, I accidentally run into the person who was standing behind me in line.

"Oh! Sorry," she apologizes.

"Jeanine," I say without thinking. This time she is wearing glasses with big lenses and a denim vest with a white shirt-dress thing underneath. Her short brown hair is tied back into an awkward stub of a ponytail, revealing two or three piercings on each ear. Her black nylons are ripped at her knees and of course she isn't without her red Converse high tops. She also lets her camera hang freely around her neck. What is with me and running into this girl while standing in line for food?

"Kenny? I don't think we've ever met, but uh…" she starts off awkwardly. Right. I'm not really supposed to know her name either. "I know you anyway."

Before I let an awkward silence pass I say, "Yeah, well. A lot of people probably do."

She chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, you and your crazy friends."

I smile to myself. I suppose we were known as a crazy bunch. I wipe the smile off my face and think to myself that I should probably walk away and avoid conversation. But just as I'm about to, I find myself asking her, "So what's up, you taking pictures of the game?"

She looks at me questionably for a second, probably surprised by how much I knew about her though it's not even much. I'm surprised we're even talking. Then she says with an exaggerated sigh, "Yeah."

"Why so unhappy about it?" I ask.

"I just wish I were somewhere else."

_Oh? Taking pictures of Mysterion, perhaps?_ I think to myself. This was definitely my cue to leave. _Walk away, walk away! _But then she asks, "Did you see me on the news? Is that how you know my name?"

I feel the edge of my mouth twitch. "Yeah," I half lie.

"I can't believe I saw Mysterion in person! But it's weird, isn't it? That he's back? Weird, but exciting... I have this strange theory that he's immortal."

I almost drop my nachos and I look at her like she's insane. Well, she is! How much does this girl know? Then I remember I jumped off a building the other day when I was in her pursuit. I wonder if she arrived at that conclusion from just that night or from other events. Even if she did, she shouldn't have been able to remember my lifeless body once it hit the ground..

"Yeah, a lot of people give me that look when I tell them," she says dejectedly. "It's okay if you don't believe it. But don't you think that explains his ability to fight crime in the face of danger? I mean, for the short times that he's actually active, anyway."

"It's definitely… an interesting theory."

"It's what I'd like to write about for the school newspaper. But I also need a picture of him."

"A picture? Why?"

She looks to the sky then, her hazel eyes vacant but thoughtful. Then she looks back at me. Her eyes are shining. "I don't know. Inspiration? To make the article more interesting? Actually, I think the real reason why I want to photograph him is to maybe, if I'm really lucky, get a chance to talk with him."

I chuckle. "You're dreaming pretty big," I tell her, not meaning to say it as an insult, but she gets defensive anyhow.

"Yeah, well, being the first journalist in this town to interview our masked vigilante could really launch my future career. And I wanna discover who he really is! No one just.. puts on a suit and goes into town to fight crime! Not unless you're acting for a movie! He really is a hero. Even if the crimes he prevents may be small. I'd like to get to know Mysterion, masked and unmasked."

I want to laugh out loud at the irony. I really do. But I will myself to hold it back. _Walk away, walk away, _I keep reminding myself.

"Well, keep looking. Maybe one day you'll be lucky," I tell her as I finally begin walking away.

"Would you like to help me?"

I freeze in my steps. Reluctantly I pivot my feet to face her.

"What was that?" I ask stupidly.

"Would you like to help me?" she asks again. Then quickly she adds, "Sorry, I don't know why I asked. It's just, no one's supporting me on this and I could use the help. But I barely know you so it's okay to say no. Pretend I didn't ask."

I look down at my nachos, which are probably growing colder by the second. I look to the bleachers to see the crowd yelling enthusiastically, Kyle probably sitting bored among them and waiting. Then I look to Jeanine, her eyes so full of ambition and passion and desperation all at the same time. She stands there, waiting awkwardly as I try to find the right words to say.

"Actually, I know the city pretty well. Maybe I can help you figure out Mysterion's patterns of movement or something," I hear myself say after a while.

"Really? Y-you're serious?" Jeanine asks unsurely. Because I can't take back what I said now, I nod. She then beams and I see almost all of her teeth. She reaches forward, as if almost to hug me but she stops herself. She blushes and says, "Wow, I can't believe it. Thanks, Kenny."

_I can't believe it either._

"Yeah. I'll uh… see you at school and we can talk about it," I tell her. I then walk away before either she or I say anything more.

I think about how Kyle might just kill me when I tell him I still need him to put on the suit.**  
**


	4. Trigger

**A/N: **So this is actually the _last_ chapter I wrote after I finished everything else. So I guess it was just kind of inserted, but I hope it doesn't seem too out of place! I just thought I needed a chapter that looked into Kenny's life at home a little bit closer. It also explains part of the reason why Kenny stopped being Mysterion for a while. It'll make sense in a later chapter.

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**Chapter 4: Trigger**

The next morning I wake up to the sound of my parents arguing in their room. Each time one speaks, the other one speaks louder in return until they reach the highest decibel they can. I groan and inwardly curse at our home's thin walls. The clock on my bedside table reads 7:03AM. It's a Saturday and I should be sleeping in.

"Think of the kids, Stuart!" yells my mom's muffled voice. "Or are you too much of a dumbass to care! Piece of lazy shit."

"Well if _you_ care about the kids so much, then why are you still here? You're no better!" yells my dad.

"_I'm_ leavin' for work! If I come back early, your drunk ass better be out doin' the same thing!"

I hear her slam their bedroom door shut as she stomps out of the house and into the driveway. The sound of our rickety old pickup truck eventually fades away and all is quiet now. But seconds later the silence is disturbed and I hear my dad cursing at himself, at no one. This is nothing new.

Mom tries her hardest now to keep us all in check by working extra hours, even if it means working on weekends at 7 in the morning. Dad's still trying to get the hang of it. They both still drink a lot, with mom falling in and out of her lapses a lot less, but at least when she's sober she's trying. If only dad weren't so lazy and inconsistent. But I guess it runs in the family.

I grab my battery powered portable radio and take it to the kitchen to start up a breakfast. There's no point in trying to go back to sleep now.

As I smell the eggs in the fridge to make sure they aren't rotten, the voice on the radio talks about a gas leak that happened downtown last night at midnight. A fire erupted and several people were hurt. I'm surprised I was lucky enough to miss it. I wasn't there to get caught up in the series of unfortunate events and die or something. The voice on the radio ends his report with, "But where is Mysterion now?" and I change the station to something else.

A popular upbeat song takes over, and it makes frying eggs more fun. I dance in front of the stove, frying pan and spatula in hand, as I wait for my breakfast to finish cooking.

"Morning," says a voice. I turn around to face Karen, my little sister, as she yawns and rubs her eyes in fresh awakening. Her light auburn hair sticks out at funny angles and a slight smirk is present on her lips. "You seem happy at this early hour."

"It's just the music. Mom and dad wake you up too?"

"Mhm."

I grab two plates for myself and Karen and give her half of my scrambled eggs.

"Here, eat up. Whatcha up to today, Karen?"

"Nothing, might go hang out with Ruby."

"At the Tucker's house again? You take care of yourself."

"I will."

I smile at Karen. At fifteen, she may not be so little anymore, but she's still my baby sister. When I think about it, Mysterion was just a game of make-believe until Karen needed a hero. He became the real deal when I chose to protect her at a low point in her childhood.

Now that we're older, Karen doesn't need him as much anymore. What used to be a shy, timid girl, grew into a pretty, confident young lady. Karen is fine on her own now and doesn't need any saving.

…

With nothing better to do at home, I decide to go for a quick run around the neighborhood. I run by Stark's Pond all the way to Harbucks once I realize how thirsty I am. Hopefully, Tweek is there working so he can hook me up with a free coffee.

Once I make it inside, Tweek is nowhere to be found. Instead, I find Jeanine sitting at a corner table on her laptop. Her camera bag is laid out on the table, alongside a hot cup of coffee.

"Jeanine?" I say as I approach her. "Man, I've been running into you a lot lately."

She looks up at me. "Well, it's only been once. But yeah, I guess. What are you doing here? It's eight-thirty in the morning."

"I went for a run. What are _you_ doing here?"

She sighs. "There was a track meet at school this morning. Wendy assigned it to me for newspaper."

"So you're writing about it _now?"_

"No, I only had to take pictures. I'm writing for something else right now." She yawns.

"Damn. Newspaper seems more brutal than I thought," I say.

"At least I'm not stuck writing about some chess tournament. Trust me, it's not fun at all."

Jeanine takes a sip of her coffee as she types away. I'm tired from running, so I allow myself to occupy the other empty seat at her table.

"Are you writing your Mysterion story?" I ask her.

"Why would I do that now? I haven't had the chance to speak with him yet. Though maybe brainstorming some questions for him would be a good idea…" She rubs her chin as she ponders at the thought.

"You're that sure you're gonna meet him again?"

"Yeah. Is that weird? I mean I already ran into him once so why can't it happen again?" she says with a shrug.

"I don't know.. Did you hear about that fire downtown last night? Mysterion didn't show up to save anybody," I tell her. Maybe if I try to convince Jeanine that Mysterion isn't worth chasing after anymore, she'll drop the idea altogether. "He's been gone for so many years. Doesn't that seem lazy? What makes you think he's back for good?"

"Please. He's just taking a break. _Something_ had to trigger Mysterion into becoming a hero. He can't just forget about it. He'll be back," she says confidently.

Images of a younger Karen flash in my mind. I recall her small, fragile figure as it got beaten up by school bullies. How she craved my protection and called me her guardian angel whenever she made an encounter with me. I would make mysterious appearances to save her and behind my mask, she would look at me like I was her savior. Karen _was_ my trigger… but what does it mean if she doesn't seem to need me anymore?

"People need him," Jeanine continues. I can't tell if it's a trick of the lighting in this place, but her hazel eyes start to glisten again. "Mysterion will realize that and he'll be back. I know it!"

Two younger girls a couple of tables away seemed to have overheard us, because they snicker at Jeanine's remark. Jeanine's eyes flicker at them for a second, but she ignores it, takes another sip of her coffee, and continues typing.

"If you say so," I tell her. "Anyway, you seem busy. I'm gonna grab a coffee and head out."

Jeanine's eyes leave her computer screen to look up at me after I've gotten out of my seat. "You haven't forgotten your decision to help me, right?"

I look at her back. "No, no of course not. We can talk about it at school on Monday."

"Okay," she says. A wave of relief seems to flow through her. "See you then."

I order a coffee and leave Jeanine alone to finish her work at Harbucks.

…

After hanging out with the guys, I come back home around 10 at night. I open the door to find my dad lazing around on our living room couch with the TV on and empty beer bottles scattered on a patch of carpet in front of him. Judging by the fact that he isn't in his room yelling at anyone, no one else is home, including mom. She worked all day today.

The first thing dad says to me is, "Where's your sister?"

"She's out with her friends," I tell him.

Dad grunts. "She didn't say anything to me about it."

"She's a big girl, dad. She can take care of herself."

Karen stopped asking for permission to leave the house long ago, when dad would always be too drunk to care. Now, he seemed drunk enough that he actually did care.

I leave my dad in the living room and head straight to my room. I change out of my clothes into something more comfortable and lay in bed. It's not even that late at night but I'm already beginning to feel tired. Probably because I woke up so early. Soon after my eyes start feeling heavy, I hear my sister come home and my dad's elevated voice.

"Where have you been!" he yells.

"I was with some friends—"

"Do you know how late it is, young lady?"

"It's only ten, dad," Karen says. Then the sounds of struggle start. "Ugh, let go of me! You're drunk!"

"Next time you plan to stay out 'til it's dark, you tell me!"

"_Okay_, dad, just let me _go_!" More sounds of struggle, and then a slap. "What the hell, dad!"

"You need to be disciplined more. I can't have you running around doing who knows what!"

"As if _you_ know any better! Ugh, god!"

The sound of Karen's footsteps ring throughout the house until she makes it into her room, slamming her door. I get out of bed and step into the hallway. Thankfully, dad doesn't come after her this time. I knock at Karen's door.

"Karen?" I ask.

"Come in."

I walk into Karen's room, expecting to see her crying or something, but she isn't. The side of her face is pink from a raw blow from dad and though Karen's eyes are moist with held back tears, she doesn't cry.

"You okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah."

I sit next to her on her bed.

"I hate when dad's like this," she says. Her expression seems toughened over the years of occasional abuse. "He's such an ass."

"I hate it too."

"And you know I hate being home unless you're home too," she tells me with a smile. "I mean, I'm fine on my own. But home seems better when you're around. So thanks for being a good brother."

"Any time, kid."

Once I'm assured that Karen's okay, I leave her room and go back into mine. I lay in bed and before I fall asleep, thoughts of a young Karen run through my mind again. She used to cower behind me, cry in her room, and avoid bullies at school. Now, she takes shit from people in a different way. Instead of crying about it, she stands up for herself and walks away like the smart, dignified girl she has grown to be.

As horrible as it may sound, I kind of miss the times she would cry.. when she would _need_ me to be her hero. Now, she appreciates me as a brother, sure, but that's all.

I sigh and turn out my lights. Life is probably better this way, anyway. Karen shouldn't have to rely on Mysterion or anyone else if she wants to mature into a strong woman.

People like Karen don't need a masked hero to make their lives better. I don't need them to make my life better, either. All I get out of it is violence and death anyway. And no one ever seems to remember..

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry if things seem to be going by slowly! I just always adored Kenny's relationship with Karen, so I felt the need to put it in somewhere, and it has purpose too. Next chapter should be when things start to pick up. It'll be Kenny and Jeanine's first attempt at finding Mysterion. Feel free to let me know what you guys think in a review!


	5. The Cemetery

**Chapter 5: The Cemetery**

So my brilliant plan is to put Kyle in my Mysterion suit, have him drive to South Park's cemetery late in the evening, and have Jeanine and I coincidentally bump into him so she can steal some photos. The cemetery would be a safe place. Barely anyone goes there, especially at night.

I doubt Kyle would agree to it though. That night when I ran into Jeanine at the game, he already had a hard time accepting the fact I gave in to helping the girl, knowing that I'd probably ask him for his help, which is what I am doing now. I stand at the door to his house, my backpack slung over my right arm, and ring the bell.

Mrs. Broflovski greets me as she opens the door. "Hi, Kenny, nice to see ya, Kyle's in his room."

"Thanks, Mrs. Broflovski," I tell her as I move passed her and up the stairs.

I knock twice on Kyle's door and open it to find Kyle on his laptop with his textbooks open. He would be doing homework on a Sunday night.

"Hey man, what's up," he says without averting his eyes away from his laptop.

"I need your help."

He looks up at me then with a slight look of dread. "Oh, no. Is this about the Jeanine thing? Already?"

"We only have two weeks, dude."

Kyle sighs. "I'll help you, but not if it involves me getting into your suit."

"Well shit, 'cause that's what I was going to ask you to do," I say, dangling my backpack in front of him.

"No." He goes back to his homework.

"Please… I need you to get into my pants."

He shoots me a look that says, _really, Kenny? _

"Why do you want to help Jeanine now anyway? Isn't it easier to just say sorry you can't help her?"

It's true, it is easier to run in this situation. But then I remember the way Jeanine's eyes seem to glisten more when she talks about Mysterion. Wendy wasn't lying when she said she was obsessed with him. Well, obsession is a strong word. Jeanine is just wholeheartedly fascinated… by me! And the worse part? No one seems to have her back when it comes to her unusual desire to meet the guy. I mean, it's not impossible. I should know that the most.

"It might be easier, but it's not what I feel is right. I wanna help her because… she seems like she might need it," I say nonchalantly. Then I add, "And helping her would mean helping Wendy, which would mean helping Stan.. kind of."

"How noble of you," Kyle snorts. "Is that the suit in your bag?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. I need a break from all this homework anyway. When do I get to wear it?" he asks unexcitedly.

I tell Kyle about my cemetery idea, which I hope to execute by Monday. The sooner the better. I can tell he doesn't like the plan at all, but because we've done crazier shit as kids, he'll do it.

Kyle tries on the suit to make sure it's a comfortable fit. Other than a slight bit of extra fabric at his ankles, the suit fits him perfectly. A pair of brown boots would cover the slouch of black spandex at his feet anyway.

"How do you wear this and not feel stupid?" Kyle asks me as he looks at himself in the mirror.

"Come on, don't you remember how cool you felt as The Human Kite?" I tease.

"That was eight years ago. I feel stupid now," he says, his face turning almost as red as his hair, if only I could see it. His jew fro was all tucked in beneath the cloak's hood. "So, so stupid."

I don't take his remarks to offense. Instead, I just laugh a little. A lot changes when you grow up.

Kyle continues to look at himself in disgusted amusement.

"Thanks for helping me, man."

...

At school the next Monday morning, I find Jeanine in the hallway at her locker with her camera in her hands. Her hair is up in a ponytail again and she wears her reading glasses atop her head. I watch as she carefully assembles her camera together, fastening the large lens onto the camera's body. She flinches a little when I creep up on her with a friendly greeting.

"Hey, Jeanine."

"Kenny! Hey."

"Are you free tonight?" I ask her.

She takes a moment to think before she answers. "It's a school night, I'll probably have homework. But other than that, I guess so."

"Okay. Finish your homework early 'cause I think I know where Mysterion is gonna be."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Tonight? What makes you so sure?"

"I've seen Mysterion around the cemetery on some nights. Now that he's back, maybe he'll make visits this week. We can check every night, if you want," I offer, knowing that we'd only have to check once.

"The cemetery?" She questions skeptically.

"I told you I'd help, didn't I?" She shoots me a look of apprehension. I ask her, "What, are you scared?"

"No, I'm not scared," she retorts, though unconvincingly. "It just doesn't seem like a likely place for Mysterion.."

She's right. The cemetery is the one place I avoid in the city, especially at night.

"Well have you ever been there at night?"

"No."

"Then trust me. Let's go and see if he's there tonight at 9."

Jeanine and I exchange phone numbers and addresses.

...

By 9PM that evening, I am parked in front of Jeanine's house in my dad's old pickup truck. Eventually Jeanine emerges from the door wearing the same red sneakers and her camera around her neck. As she hops into the front passenger seat, she takes one deep breath.

"Not scared, right?" I ask.

"Nope. I've fared worse," she says, facing straight ahead and looking focused.

As I pull out into the street and begin driving to the cemetery, I ask her, "Oh really? What's worse than an old cemetery at night?"

"Balancing family with school, newspaper deadlines, and photography club. Those kinds of things. How about you? Are you scared?"

"Nope. I've experienced much, much worse."

After about twenty minutes of driving we reach the cemetery and I park in the lot in front of it, making sure that Jeanine doesn't notice Kyle's car parked along the street across from us. He should already be in the cemetery, dressed in my suit, and prepared to do as I told him once Jeanine and I enter through the gate.

I lead Jeanine down the short dirt path that leads to the cemetery's entrance gate. It opens with an eerie creak. Once we are inside, Jeanine and I take a brief moment to absorb our surroundings. Though I carry a flashlight, the place is ominously dark and the faint light of the moon creates the effect of dark silhouettes all around us. Silhouettes of gravestones, gargoyles, and other unknown figures. A layer of a light, ghostly fog rests on the moist ground, eerily reminding us that we might not be alone.

"Okay. This is kind of creepy," Jeanine admits. As I lead the way I feel the warmth of her body growing closer to me, but not too close. Thankfully the place is dark so she can't see the grin that finds its way to my lips. "Kenny. Say something."

"Hm, what, are you that spooked?" I ask her, breaking out of my silence. I'm keeping my focus, trying to act brave.

"A little. Where are you leading me?" she asks suspiciously. Our walking does not stop until Kyle makes himself known.

"To Mysterion. I'm not gonna rape you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

She giggles nervously. "I don't see him."

"Well duh, it's pitch black out here. Do you have your camera?"

"Yes," she says. I hear her uncapping her lens and then she gasps. She whispers, "There!"

Jeanine points her finger at a place in the cemetery not too far from us. We see Kyle's silhouette, who is leaning against a large monument. The question mark that adorns the cloak's hood is the only giveaway that the figure belongs to Mysterion. I gasp in mock astonishment. "It's him! Let's go!"

Jeanine and I pick up our pace as we get closer to Kyle, who is now running to and from tombstones large enough to hide his whole body. We watch him run back and forth for a while. Jeanine asks, "What in the world is he doing?"

"I don't know. Looking for something?" I lie. "Come on, let's get closer!"

"Wait." She stays behind.

"What's the problem?"

"I just realized he'll see the flash."

I plant my palm at my forehead. "So? Doesn't your camera have night vision or something?"

"Yeah, if I want bad quality photos."

"Just take it with flash then. I don't think he'll care."

Even though it's dark I can sense Jeanine pouting at me in disagreement.

"I can't do that! He'll run away. He ran from me last time," she says as if Kyle was a squirrel we were trying to chase.

"Maybe he won't run this time," I try to say convincingly.

She sighs. A sign of giving in. She follows me as I make my way toward Kyle, getting closer and closer until we are close enough to steal a decent picture.

"All right. Do your thing," I whisper at her.

Jeanine takes another deep breath as she lifts her camera to her eye. We crouch on the ground behind a stone, watching as Kyle runs in haphazard directions, his cloak billowing as he darts left and right. She seems to be observing him, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect angle. I wait patiently. Then I see her arms shift downward and she lets her camera fall at her chest.

"What's the problem?" I ask her.

"That's not him," she says. "It's someone posing as him."

"What! What do you mean? That's definitely him!" I tell her, words spilling out of my mouth in disbelief. She cannot possibly be serious.

"No, it's not. He runs like a girl. It's a poser. And why is he even running around here? He looks crazy."

"I think it's really him!" I try to argue. "Can't you take a picture anyway?"

She stands up in front of me now, ready to leave. "Kenny, I might as well ask my kid sister to dress up as Mysterion and take pictures of her. It's not the same. But thanks for bringing me out here anyway. Let's just go."

I sigh in defeat and follow her out of the cemetery to the truck, leaving Kyle among the graves. Jeanine knew too much about Mysterion than I had hoped.

…

"So? How did it go?" Kyle asks me the next morning when he picks me up for school. Both of us are obviously more tired than usual. Kyle slightly more than I am though.

"She thought you were a mental person posing as him, running around like that. And she thinks you run like a girl."

His face turns sour. "So no picture?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Do you have a plan B?"

"Not yet."


	6. A Thousand Words

**A/N: **Ah, sorry for such a late update! I realize it's been more than a month. But something came up this summer and I had to be sent away! Thus, I did not have my computer with all my files on it. I'm back home now, though, and back to regular weekly updates.

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Thousand Words**

Before I know it, the next week ends with no sign of Mysterion for either me or Jeanine. But since the day of the cemetery, Jeanine and I have been roaming the city in case we actually do "bump into him." We lurked around areas where we thought small crimes could happen, but nothing ever did. And of course we don't find him. Now we only have one week left and I still haven't come up with a backup plan.

I'm with Jeanine and the others in the parking lot. It's a Friday and school just ended. I can tell the guys are still a little uncomfortable whenever I bring her around to hang out with us sometimes.

"I just don't understand," Jeanine tells me. "I thought Mysterion was back. One week, and he already disappears. Again."

"He's probably just really good at hiding," I say.

"Maybe you guys should give it a break," Wendy suggests. "I know you've been trying but.. isn't there a saying that goes you never find what you want when you're looking for it?"

"So says the girl who only gave us two weeks to find him," I comment. Wendy shoots me a bitter look.

Jeanine sighs. "It's okay. It makes sense to drop the story altogether if we can't find him soon. What's the point in writing about Mysterion's comeback if he isn't back for good?"

There is an awkward silence among us. I can tell Jeanine is really disappointed about Mysterion, and the weight of her feelings affects us all in some way or another, whether we want it to or not. Cartman is obviously annoyed, Stan doesn't wanna deal with it so he remains indifferent, Kyle and I are the only ones that are feeling the least bit guilty, though I more than him.

"Anyone down for milkshakes?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

…

We all drive to a local diner for dessert. Each of us orders a milkshake, and we sit around and talk until we get bored. Jeanine has stopped talking about Mysterion and everyone makes conversation about random things, like what girls think guys do at sleepovers. Jeanine remains a little timid around us though, only butting into conversation when she has something smart to say. Otherwise she just sips on her mint chocolate chip milkshake and listens.

"Guys do NOT talk about girls at sleepovers. It's a waste of our time," Cartman argues with Wendy. That was a lie. Guys talk about girls sometimes.

"Yes they do! Well at least STRAIGHT guys do," she replies.

"Call me a homo one more time, bitch, and I'll gag you with my own hands."

"I never said you were a homo."

"Just shut the fuck up."

"You shut up!"

"Suck my balls."

As Wendy and Cartman's debate kills our conversation, the rest of us just sit there and wait for the storm to pass. To me and the guys, this is normal. But to Jeanine, it's awkward.

"When we were kids, didn't we already establish what guys and girls do at sleepovers?" I ask aside to Stan and Kyle, rolling my eyes. I sigh. "Anyway. Jeanine, don't you have to be home soon?"

It's almost 10PM and I don't want her parents getting mad at me or something. Besides, she seems like she'd rather be somewhere else right now.

"Um… yeah I guess so," she says.

"All right. Let's go, I'll take you home," I say. "Later, guys."

"Later."

Jeanine and I leave the booth. When we exit the diner, she says, "You didn't have to do that you know."

"Do what?"

"Get me out of there because I don't seem to fit in."

I smirk. "Maybe it's us who don't fit in with you."

...

I stop my dad's old pickup truck in front of Jeanine's house. The lights in her house are all off.

"Thanks again, Kenny," she says. But she doesn't get out of the truck. I'm about to ask her what's up when instead she asks me, "Do you wanna come inside for a bit? No one's home."

So Jeanine lied about having to be home on time. And it was a question I wasn't expecting. When girls used to ask me that, it only meant one thing. But I knew Jeanine wasn't like that, so it catches me a little off guard.

She reads the slightly incredulous look on my face and a subtle blush surfaces her cheeks. "I mean, not like _that_. Well, it's just, my parents freak out whenever I bring a new friend over, and now they're gone so maybe it'll be better…"

I smile. It is the first time she referred to me as a friend. "I'll go for a little."

"Okay. I'm not trying to rape you or anything if that's what you're worried about," she jokes.

"Ha-ha."

I park my truck and Jeanine leads me into her house. She gives me a brief tour of the first floor, pointing out different family photos and avoiding some others. When we climb up the stairs to her room I ask her, "Why do your parents freak out when you bring someone over?"

"…Because it doesn't happen often."

Jeanine opens the door to her room and when she turns on the lights, the first thing I see are the lavender walls with, of course, photographs aligned neatly along them. Her room is neat and organized, with white furniture and stuffed animals on her bed. Painted butterflies are also scattered on her ceiling, a girly feature that doesn't quite match up to the Jeanine I know now. At least by appearance, anyway.

"I've been wanting to redo my room for ages. It's been like this since I was like five," she says.

"No need to be embarrassed," I say. Something in the corner then catches my eye. A white dresser, and resting upon its top surface are cameras. Different kinds that I didn't even know existed. Lots of kinds. They are displayed like trophies. "Damn, girl, how many cameras do you have?"

"I like to collect them."

"I can see that. Is that a Polaroid camera?" I ask, pointing at the one I actually recognized.

"Yeah," she says, picking up the black square-shaped device. "Say cheese!"

Without warning, Jeanine quickly snaps a shot of me, the bright flash blinding my eyes. Instantly, a square-shaped piece of film slips out of the slot. Jeanine pulls it out. I look over her shoulder and we wait for the picture to develop. Jeanine waves the picture in the air and in between, we watch the black square turn a shade of gray, and then colors start to appear. When the picture is finally clear, I say, "Definitely not a good shot of me. You should burn it."

My blonde hair's a mess, my eyes are squinted and the bright flash made my skin appear pale, so I almost look Chinese. "Well, it's only my first picture of you. It won't be the last."

I follow her as she places my picture on her bedside table on top of a stack of other Polaroids. Above the bedside table taped to the wall, surprisingly, is a picture of Mysterion. I want to correct Jeanine and say the picture she just took is actually the second one of me, but I don't.

"Hey, you have a picture of Mysterion!" I exclaim. It is from the day of the robbery, when she was chasing me. The second I risked to look back and glance at her as we were running down the sidewalk, she snapped a picture of me. I hadn't even realized it. "Why don't you use this for your article?"

She laughs a little. "It's a good picture, but he looks a little scared and confused, don't you think? I don't want that in the newspaper, it'd be an embarrassment to both me and him. So I just keep it for fun."

I look back at the picture. I guess there is a little fear in my eyes. The mask wasn't enough to hide it. It would be embarrassing for Mysterion if that picture made the paper. The corner of my lips curl into a half grin.

My eyes scan the pictures that surround the one of me as Mysterion. I get kind of lost in them, actually. Some are at weird, close-up angles where I don't even know what the object of the photo is. Some are familiar mountainous landscapes of Colorado or objects in the sun that cast interesting shadows. Some are candid shots of different people. So many shades of black and white and all the colors. So many people, places, and things caught in a moment as one photograph, and they are all beautiful. I never really saw photography as an art until now.

"Photography's your life, isn't it?" I ask.

"Pretty much. Well, journalism in general. But more photography I guess."

"You're good at it. Like, really."

"…Thanks."

After moments more of small talk and getting to know Jeanine a little more, I leave her house later that evening with a new vision of her. I learned that, despite what others have thought about her, she isn't the Mysterion-obsessed girl I initially thought she was. She's like a photograph. At first sight, she may seem insanely goal driven and obsessed.. and like a photograph, you want to look away because that's all you really need to know about it. But when you spend time with it little more, really looking at it and studying it, you realize that there's more than meets the eye. When you look beyond the surface, there is a deeper meaning that's worth a thousand words. And to sum it all up, Jeanine has a lot to offer with her passion. And witnessing someone be so passionate about something as simple as a photograph is a refreshing sight to see.


	7. Game Over

**A/N: **I felt a little bad for updating so late. So to make up for it, I'll publish a second chapter. This one's a bit short anyway!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Game Over**

The second and final week we have to get the Mysterion picture, Jeanine and I don't go searching the city as much. Whenever I try to bring her out, she tells me she's busy with photography club. But I still wait outside of her newspaper class at the end of each day anyway.

It's Thursday, the last possible day we have to find Mysterion because Jeanine's article is due Friday. I stand, leaning against the lockers in front of the newspaper room. The hallways are already empty and through the classroom door's small rectangular window, I see that only a couple of students linger behind, including Jeanine. I listen to the muffled voices behind the door.

"So how's that Mysterion story going?" asks a girl's voice.

"Great," replies Jeanine's voice, sounding apathetic.

"Weren't able to get a picture of him, huh?"

"No."

The door then opens and two random girls walk out, snickering quietly with each other. I overhear one whisper something about Jeanine being dumb for wasting her time. I frown at them as they walk away.

Jeanine is the last one to leave the classroom. She turns off the lights and walks out the door, not surprised to see me.

"Hey, Kenny."

"You busy today?"

"Yeah, I have to run errands for photography club."

I look at her, my face unsmiling. I'm kind of disappointed. "Don't lie."

She sighs. "There's no point anymore. Let's just forget about Mysterion, okay?"

"You're giving up?"

"Well since you put it _that_ way.. Yeah, Kenny, I give up."

"You can't give up," I say without knowing why. But how could she? Just days ago, she was always so excited about our little project. Then again, asking her not to give up would probably make things worse in this situation. Because I have no way to help her.

She sighs. "Well I didn't _completely_ give up. I already wrote the article and it's going in the newspaper. I just won't have the right picture for it. I tweaked the story a bit, anyway. You'll see it next Monday."

I'm ready to walk away, feeling frustrated that I failed Jeanine. But then she says, "And I wasn't lying. Wanna go with me downtown? Not for Mysterion. I need to pick up some new film for one of my cameras."

"Okay."

…

This time, Jeanine drives and she parks her car along a street not too far from the camera store. We get out of the car and begin walking there, her leading the way. Tall buildings surround us and from a distance we can see the eight-story building that I jumped off of the day of the robbery. I wonder if she remembers.

Eventually we reach the small camera store at the corner of a street. While she talks to the man up at front to make her purchase, I browse around the store. The shelves contain films, chemicals, filters, lenses, and so much more. There is still so much about photography that I don't know.

"Ready to go?" she asks me when she finds me in the Polaroid section.

"Yup."

We leave the store, Jeanine with her new pack of film, and me with a grumbling stomach.

"Do you have time for a snack?" I ask her.

"Sure."

We take a detour around the city then, to find an affordable place to eat. We are walking in comfortable silence down the sidewalk when we hear someone scream behind us. It echos down the street.

Jeanine and I turn toward the source of the sound, which is directly behind us some feet away. The woman screams again as she is in a tug-of-war with a hooded man.

"Let go of my purse!" the woman shrieks. But the thief is stronger than her, and he yanks the leather purse out of her hands, causing the woman to fall back on her rear. He makes a run for it, sprinting fast in our direction to escape her. "My purse!"

I gently pull Jeanine out of the way so that the man can run past us. The speed of his running creates a gust of wind against our tense bodies. In seconds, he disappears around a corner. I know what Jeanine is thinking.

"Where's Mysterion when you need him?" she thinks out loud.

I want to run after the man. I really do. My backpack is in Jeanine's car. I could easily run back to it, put my suit on, and track the man down. But I have to fight the urge. I can't do it while Jeanine is with me. I don't realize how heavy I am breathing with anger until Jeanine asks me, "What's wrong?"

I force myself to calm down. There has never been a time where I had to hold back from changing into Mysterion. The desire to run after the man required more strength than I thought.

"Nothing," I say. "I just hate assholes like him, that's all."

…

After grabbing a small snack with Jeanine, she drops me off at Kyle's house. The weight of my backpack on my shoulders bothers me as I step out of her car. Not because it's heavy, but because I know it contains the suit I could have put to use earlier.

"Thanks Jeanine, see you tomorrow."

"See ya."

I get inside Kyle's house, hoping that hanging out with him will help me forget the events of the day a little. First, Jeanine tells me she gives up, making me realize that I have failed her twice. I couldn't help her find Mysterion and second, I couldn't be the hero she wished to see today.

Kyle and I play videogames, and it takes my mind off of everything for a good amount of time. But an hour into it he brings them up again.

"I thought of an idea, Kenny. I don't know why I didn't think of it before," he tells me as he reloads his gun on screen.

"Really? What?"

"Why don't you take a picture of yourself as Mysterion, say you took it, and give it to Jeanine."

By now I knew Jeanine enough already to know that she wouldn't accept any photos of Mysterion unless she took it herself.

"No, that's not gonna work. Not with Jeanine," I say as I watch my character on screen get cornered by zombies. "Fuck."

Kyle sighs. "Then you're screwed, man. Maybe you should just give up, too, then."

My character dies and my half of the screen pulses as it fills with pixelated blood splatters. I drop my game controller to the floor and watch Kyle play the rest of the time.

The thing is I feel like I already have given up, with only a day left and having attempted nothing more since the cemetery. But I am screwed, aren't I? I can't be in two places at once, I can't be Mysterion in front of Jeanine unless Kenny is there with her. Well technically I can, but would it be too fishy for her to finally find him and I'm not there as Kenny? I don't want to risk her finding out my dual identity.

But what I also worry about is.. after this week is over, I won't have an excuse to hang out with Jeanine anymore. I wonder what that's gonna be like.


	8. Coward

**A/N: **My personal thanks goes out to those who have favorited and reviewed. Good or bad, it makes me happy to know you've read my story and were willing to give me some feedback. So thanks again!

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**Chapter 8: Coward**

In Mr. Garrison's homeroom class the next Monday, copies of _The South Park Bull_ are distributed among us. Usually, I would just toss it in the trash on the way out of class but today I have reason to hold onto it.

When Spanish class comes around—my least favorite—I find a seat in the back of the classroom, pull out my copy of the school newspaper, and skim through it for Jeanine's article. I find it on the third page right after the sports section and in the opinions section.

The first thing I notice other than the title, _"Mysterion: South Park's symbol of heroism or cowardice?"_, is the picture of me as Mysterion from the day of the robbery. The one where I'm running with fear and confusion clearly read in my eyes.

I read the article. It starts off with a brief but vivid recap of the convenience store robbery in Jeanine's point of view, then ends with her reflection on the event.

"_As rewarding as it was to finally see Mysterion in action first-hand, it was also a disappointment to discover that our small town hero may not be as heroic as we thought after all. Immediately after his daring comeback, Mysterion disappears once again, leaving innocent townspeople in the hands of criminals and bullies. And the worst part is that this isn't out of the ordinary for Mysterion to retreat back into the shadows; For years, he has been inconsistently active. It seems the only mystery about Mysterion—other than his true identity—is the question: Why does he hide from the public? What does he have to hide? If he were a true and dependable hero, he would show face more often to defend our city."_

Above the block of text, I make sure it was actually Jeanine who wrote the article, and not someone else. To my disappointment, I read Jeanine's name.

A few hours pass until it is lunchtime. Instead of sitting with the guys, I find Jeanine eating among her photography club members. There aren't many of them.

"Oh, excuse me, guys," she says as she excuses herself to greet me. "Hey, Kenny."

"Hey. I read your article," I tell her. "You used the picture."

We move to a more private corner in the lunchroom to talk, where there is a vacant table for us to sit at.

"Yeah, I ended up with a change in direction here and there. So what'd you think?"

I gaze at her and try to read what she's thinking. She doesn't look proud of what she did, but she doesn't look too bad about it either. I don't know why, but I want to find regret in her eyes. Why the sudden change of heart?

"It wasn't what I had in mind," I tell her honestly. "I thought Mysterion was a hero to you?"

"He is. I guess I was just really pissed off at him the time I wrote it. He comes and goes as he pleases, he has no idea that people look up to him, so he forgets that some people might actually need him." Her eyes start glistening. Not in the way I saw them the first time, when they were full of ambition and admiration. They glisten with emerging tears and… regret. "I finally get to write the story I've always wanted to write, and it doesn't come out the way I had wished. I wanted to _glorify_ Mysterion, not bash him."

With the back of her hand she wipes at the few tears at the brim of her eyes before they fall.

"He just really disappoints me sometimes. Sorry. I don't know why I'm tearing up," she says in between sniffles.

I want to comfort her. Pull her into my arms or something and let her know that it's okay. But I don't. I feel hurt that she finds Mysterion a coward, and the bitterness just forces me to sit still. I let too much time pass before I can do anything more so Jeanine gets up from her seat. "I'll see you around, Kenny."

I watch her walk away. We end up not seeing each other for a while.

…

With no reason to see Jeanine anymore, I go back to my daily routine with my life and the guys. School, home, hang out, and occasionally make solo trips to the city to roam around. It's been weeks since Jeanine and I have spent time together, and I still walk around downtown with an eye out for crime, for places and people that might need saving. I also keep an eye out for Jeanine, in case she is doing the same thing. But she isn't. The idea that she has given up on Mysterion altogether is kept in a dark place in my mind, where I don't want to think about it, but it's what the city reminds me of every time I visit.

I walk down the sidewalk, passing by the many stores that line the streets. My reflection in the store windows as I walk by never leaves the corner of my eye. It is an annoying reminder that I can't be in two places at once. I wished so much that I could be the one to find Mysterion with Jeanine. I try to focus on the late afternoon sky instead, which bleeds orange.

From a distance I spot the familiar entrance to the camera store that Jeanine had brought me to weeks ago. There would be no reason for me to go there, but I approach it anyway.

The store is closed, so I can only look curiously through its windows, but all I see is darkness. A poster is plastered onto one of the windows, and it catches my eye.

In bold letters, the poster reads: "The Wilbert B. Hart Scholarship for Young Photographers". Underneath, it provides information about a photography contest, promising those who win to be receivers of a big sum of money. All they have to do is come up with a portfolio with an overall theme, write an essay, and apply.

I wonder if Jeanine has seen this yet. In case she hasn't, I grab a copy of the flyer, which is provided in an envelope attached to the store's door. Winning the contest seems like something Jeanine could easily do as it's right up her alley. And it would potentially give me an excuse to see her again… if she lets me help her. I fold the flyer into fourths and stuff it into my back pocket.

As I turn away from the store, a man bumps into me aggressively that my feet stumble back a foot. Rude. He keeps walking, and I only see his face for a fraction of a second. It is then that I recognize the face as the same thieving asshole from weeks ago, the one who stole a lady's purse. He doesn't wear his hood this time, but he wears running shoes and his hands are in his pockets. He could not look any more shady. I don't doubt that he is on the prowl tonight.

I casually follow him, thinking of a place where I can change into my suit without being seen. I look for a possible place while still keeping my eye on the thief. I watch as he puts his hood up around his head. Swiftly and almost unnoticeably, he swipes a wallet out of an innocent guy's back pocket, who is too distracted by his conversation on the phone. He keeps walking, going perfectly unnoticed. Pickpocketing asshole!

I turn into a dark alleyway and hide behind a dumpster to change into my suit quickly. I leave my regular clothes and backpack in the corner underneath a cardboard box, trusting that it'll still be there when I come back.

When I head back into the streets, I feel people staring at me and hear the buzz of whispers in the crowds that I run by. The thief is not too far ahead. He targets a young, teenage girl who is by herself and grabs at her purse. She screams.

"Let go, you creep!" she yells. But again, the thief is too strong and he is successful in obtaining the bag. He darts right and sprints off. I hear the girl whimper until I run passed her in pursuit of the thief.

It isn't long before I catch up to him and snatch him into a chokehold from behind. While my right arm is occupied around his neck, I use my left to try and grab for the girl's bag. But the thief pulls out a knife from his pocket. He moves closer and manages to slice at my stomach. The cut is shallow but I groan in pain, loosening my grip around the thief's neck. He takes this opportunity to spin himself around and lands an uppercut to my gut. The pain doubles, but I punch him back.

Civilians are gathered around us now. Even people in nearby restaurant patios stop eating to spectate, snapping pictures on their phones and cameras, murmuring with each other in amusement. I want to see if Jeanine is among any of them, but now isn't the time.

I kick the thief in the ear, knocking him off-balance and he stumbles a little. I take this chance to grab the bag. As I sling it around my shoulder, the thief quickly gets up and stabs me in the gut with his knife. He pulls the knife out of me. It spills out and drops to the floor. Along with it, blood.

The civilians gasp. The thief cackles unmercilessly, waiting for my next move.

"You sure are an idiot, Mystery Boy. No wonder you've run away. You can't save this town for shit!"

I ignore the excruciating pain and snap myself out of the dizziness that begun to overtake me. I charge at the thief, landing punches at his face. Jab, cross, hook. Jab, cross, hook. He falls sideways and I continue to hit him, showing no mercy. A superhuman strength seems to have overcome me, and the thief is trapped underneath me.

I punch him until parts of his face are distorted. But when I know it is enough, I stop. He lies helplessly on the ground, breathing irregularly.

I strip the guy of all the things he stole, searching his pockets and whatnot for wallets. I leave them all on the ground next to him, but I personally return the purse to the young girl it belongs to. She looks at me in admiration, a sparkle in her eye that I wish I could see again in someone else.

The civilians all around me don't stop with their picture taking and chattering.

_Wow, it's Mysterion!_

_He's so cool!_

_Someone call an ambulance, he's hurt!_

_He's a hero!_

But their bodies and voices become a blur as I clumsily stumble forward. I'm growing dizzier by the second and I have to get away. I clutch at my stomach, which bleeds unceasingly. Even though all of my senses are disoriented, I run as fast as I can to the alleyway I had come from. I only have to endure this pain for a little longer. By the time I reach my place behind the dumpster, I collapse against the wall and everything fades to black.


	9. Redemption

**A/N: **Probably the shortest chapter that will be in this story! We're a bit more than halfway towards the end. Please let me know what you think-good or bad! It makes me happy to see how many people have been reading. So thanks again!

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**Chapter 9: Redemption**

Mysterion doesn't make it to the news the next morning, but he does blow up on the internet. I scroll through several blogs that feature phone-quality pictures of Mysterion beating up a guy on the sidewalk and returning a stolen purse to a young girl. The pictures are all fuzzy in quality, but the cloaked figure in the pictures is definitely me, and the events definitely happened.

I study my stomach in the mirror. I wince as I remember the pain from being stabbed but the pain is just a memory. My whole body including my stomach is unscathed. I am a freak of nature, but what the hell. I'm alive and well again and heading out for another day of school.

Once I'm at school and walking through the hallways, I'm surprised to hear Jeanine's footsteps catch up to mine. She walks beside me casually, as if we never lost touch with each other over the weeks. I know it hasn't been that long, but already she looks different, despite her all too familiar red Converse high tops. She looks pretty. Did she cut her hair?

She sounds excited when she says, "Hey, Kenny! So did you hear? Mysterion was downtown last night! God, I wish I was there. I have horrible timing!"

I smirk. "So you aren't mad at him anymore?"

She scoffs. "Well he still hasn't redeemed himself for all the other times he's disappeared but… I hope he's okay. He looked like he was bleeding a lot."

"I'm sure he's okay. He's immortal, right?"

"Are you mocking me? Don't mock me," she says, giving me a playful punch in the arm. She pulls out her phone to show me a picture of Mysterion in action. "Have you seen this?"

The picture she presents to me is of the thief stabbing me in the gut. I wince again as I remember the pain. Jeanine catches this at the corner of her eye.

"I know. What an ass, right? I really hope Mysterion made it out alive."

"He'll be fine. And you shouldn't be mad at him anymore. You know the guy he beat up was the same asshole we saw the other day? The one we saw steal an old lady's purse."

"Really? You can tell from this fuzzy picture?"

"Well, I mean, it looks like him, doesn't it?" I say, pointing at the man's figure in the picture. The quality of the picture makes his face look blurred and indistinguishable. Jeanine looks at me suspiciously. She looks not just at just my face, but she glances at my stomach. Is she making the connection?

"Hey if you're not busy at lunch, come find me. I have to show you something," I say quickly, recalling the Wilbert B. Hart scholarship.

The first hour bell rings. Just as the old saying goes, I'm saved.

"Okay. I will. Nice seeing you, Kenny," she says with a smile. Then she heads down the hall in the opposite direction.

…

At lunchtime we sit at the same table where we talked about Jeanine's article weeks ago.

"So? What is it?" she asks me curiously.

I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket, unfolding it in front of her and placing it on the table.

"I don't know if you've heard of this yet, but I thought you'd be interested."

She reads the flyer. By the look on her face, it's the first time she's heard of the scholarship. When she's done looking over it, she looks up at me.

"Wow. This is pretty… cool. Thanks, Kenny."

"So you're gonna do it?"

Her expression looks irresolute for a moment, but then it morphs into one of determination.

"Yeah. I mean, yeah this sounds awesome. I just have to come up with a good theme for the portfolio."

She sighs and rests her face in the palm of her hand as she rests her elbow on the table.

"You're talented. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Well that's easier said," she says with a half grin. Then she focuses her eyes on me. "Why are you doing this, Kenny?"

"What, helping you?" I ask. For the first time in a while, I feel a slight blush creep onto my cheeks. "I guess I feel bad for never finding Mysterion with you. So I want you to apply for this contest. I know you can win. I'll even help if you ask."

"Oh? So you _want_ to help me?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Yeah, sure. But on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We don't go looking for Mysterion."

"Deal."

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**A/N: **I realize this may have been a little anticlimactic from the last chapter.. but what am I to do if Kenny always wakes up completely fine the next day? xP Well now that the two are back in the game together, the story will finally be a little geared toward romance a bit more. Stay posted!


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